fragmented caresses
by thefallfiles
Summary: Hands pressed assuredly against the backs of her own, her eyes widening at the unexpected touch. She was like a stray cat, getting backed into a corner, worried, scared, unpredictable. I should expose my claws. Her gaze drifted down to their hands, Scully noted somewhat shocked, that her fingernails were digging into his shirt, gripping tightly. Multi-chapter. Mulder x Scully


After The Truth but before I Want To Believe.

I've already written up the first 2 chapters for this piece, let me know what you think.

 **fragmented caresses**

part 1.

Red locks caressed the edge of her jaw when she craned her neck, heavy eyes meeting the blue serenity swirling in her own. Saturated skin slick with sweat, the dorsal venous arch of her foot pressed against the back of his calves, a loud gasp escaping her rose swollen lips when a sharp, sudden twinge of pain spread across her abdomen. Her skin was overheated, it could be elation, she thought briefly as tender lips caressed the crook of her shoulder.

Pressing the palm of her hand across his day-old stubble, thumb swiping upwards as she subconsciously seeked to sweep sleep from the corner of his eye; the simple act had a deep longing pulling at the tattered tendons of her heart. Scully separated her body from his, eyebrows strung together as she tried to control the dizzying array of emotions invading her body.

"Are you okay?" His voice was rough, it had deepened since the last time they had spoke.

She huffed a laugh, rolling towards the bedside table and reaching slightly shaking fingers for the warming glass of water. Meticulous fingers dipped into the puddle of condensation laying idly beneath the bottom of the glass, the tiny rivulets cooling her heated skin.

"Just a little sore." She uttered penitently.

Mulder's eyes flickered with unsettled emotion, the dark waters threatening turmoil on his happiness.

Their happiness?

Should he even dare tempt the fates to tear apart their lost, new-found beginning? Was this a reunion? Did Scully want to be with him – to be a themonce again?

He opened his mouth to reply, his mind started to ruminate about them; the foggy uncertainty that had become so much of him, he could feel it tunneling into the recesses of his mind, carving out a deep and dark path.

"Mulder..."

Her voice was competing with the darkness of his mind; her voice swirling through the fissures in the brick foundation, starting to wear and crack the once solid blockade.

A soft touch.

That was all it took.

That was all it ever took with her.

Her words were muted by the delicate squeeze of her fingers on the crook of his elbow, the dulled hues of her eyes were longing to spill every thought that had entered her mind over the course of their brief separation. The pain and torment that shuddered through her body almost as loudly as the sobs that had shook her perforated frame. The sepia coloured memories of his smile, his hands...

Her own fingers entangled with his as the thoughts plagued her mind.

Her overstuffed suitcase laid out on their bed, sunflower seeds scattered across the kitchen floor as he pressed kisses along her jaw leaving a trail of warm shaving cream behind, their first hotel room entanglement...

"Penny for your thoughts?"

The liquid had done nothing to cool her down, barely quenching her thirst. With her free hand she reached back towards the bedside table. Holding the glass to her lips to sip at the all the suddenly heavy liquid, she had to close her eyes tightly as the liquid heavily passed down her throat. Scully studied the patterns adorning the edges of the crystal glass, her light lipstick smearing a peach coloured tinge to the flowered mosaic brimming across the edges of the glass.

He kept the glasses, she thought timidly, Why didn't he throw them away?

Guilt threatened to paint her insides, splattering blame across her ribs.

"Or a Dime." He reached to press his fingers against her shoulder, where moments before his lips had been whispering. "I'm feeling a little reckless."

Scully chuckled, momentarily forgetting that her mouth was filled, like the glass, to the brim with water. She raised her hand at the same moment that he did, but he was faster, his thumb wiping away the drizzling liquid from underneath her swollen lips.

It was electrifying. Intoxicating. She could feels 10 years of emotions thrumming in the small space in between them. Longing. Fear. Need. Passion. Love. It was too much.

Pressing her hands to his chest, she shoved him away, attempting any kind of maneuver - even the most ridiculous - to breathe.

Why can't I breathe? In and out. It's supposed to be a natural process.

Hands pressed assuredly against the backs of her own, her eyes widening at the unexpected touch. She was like a stray cat, getting backed into a corner, worried, scared, unpredictable. I should expose my claws. Her gaze drifted down to their hands, Scully noted somewhat shocked, that her fingernails were digging into his shirt, gripping tightly. Her heart subconsciously keeping him close whilst her brain was attempting to distance them.

"I have to..." Her eyes darted around the room looking for a distraction, anything.

She couldn't even finish the sentence, a wave of nausea coming to her rescue, or not, it depends how she looks at it.

Fingers covered calloused lips as she stumbled off of the bed onto weak legs, pins and needles spreading from the tips of her toes, underneath the arches of her feet, the backs of her calves numb.

The luminescent lights in the bathroom started to blur, smudged lights deepening to a midnight blue-grey-black, shadows closing in on the effervescent spark of her eyes.

Perhaps this is what being trapped inside a black hole felt like.

Maybe she was having a fever trip.

"Scully...Scully. Talk to me."

The voice was drifting in and out, the croak of his voice reverberating through her eardrums, changing the tone of his voice to a heavy echo.

"Dana, please." His voice suddenly clear, he was pleading, worry evident through the straining of his vocal cords. Her eyelids fluttered, her head felt leaden, she wasn't able to catch her breath from the sheer throbbing of it.

"M-ul..." Her words were liquid, garbled, lost in the recesses of her mouth.

"Shhh, it's okay." Something warm was being pressed to her cheek, "You didn't quite reach the toilet. Are you sick?"

She felt as though there was a weight on her chest, the pressure curling and cracking her ribs around her lungs, her own heavy bones and muscles betraying her by trapping her numbly against the harsh cold tiles.

"I'm probably just run down from working through 2 straight shifts," Tired eyes peeked through heavy lashes. "You know me." A bashful smile peeked out from worn lips.

"Yeah,"He acquiesced, "I do."

Her eyes were unable to stay open for longer than fifteen minutes at a time, the hours passed by in a blur. She brushed him away, curling against the cold cushions on his couch, telling him that she was probably just run down.

A contained of spring rolls were placed in front of her, Mulder was distracted, trying to do 12 things at once like always. "Where is the soy sauce?!" He muttered under his breath, fingers tapping impatiently against the hardwood coffee table.

"I've just been pushing myself too hard." She promised him, fingers toying with the plastic fork in her hand.

Continuing the conversation from mere hours ago, her eyes watching him struggle with one of the noodle boxes. She pressed her own hands against his, fingers plying his own away from the stubborn container and opening it for him.

"I wouldn't know." His voice was gruff, hurt at her flippant words but not wanting to push her, he avoided eye-contact, refusing to allow the sharpness of his eyes bleed the honesty from him.

Scully didn't say anything.

She managed to keep down her meal, her stomach having a good reaction to the chinese take-away that he had ordered last minute. It was a toss of the coin whether the junk food would react well with her sudden nausea. It turns out that an unhealthy meal was exactly what the doctor ordered, or rather, the psychologist. Ex-FBI agent, whatever he called himself these days.

Certainly not your husband, she reminded herself.

Don't go there.

Shaking her head, her straightened locks hours prior were now starting to curl at the ends, deep red resting against the edges of her sharp shoulders.

"You feeling any better?" Mulder's voice was quiet, flippant.

She knew he was trying to be wary about this, about her, about them. But, she just didn't have the strength to play these games. She was tired. She was so tired. It was exhausting acting a certain way. But she knew that he needed this, he needed this wall, her wall, his wall, the joint bricks interlocking and refusing to break or tumble down from any slight nudge from either side.

He still needed space. He wasn't ready.

Am I even ready?, she wondered.

The sun was starting to rise, warm apricot tones spread across the green of the countryside. It filled her with a new found hope, a small spark igniting inside her gaping chest.

Lips caressed the sharp edge of her shoulder blade gently, one, two, soft butterfly kisses were pressed to the pale exposure of her spine. His hand gently squeezed her wrist in an effort to capture her attention.

You don't have to try so hard, Mulder, she thought wryly, a small smile flickering across her rose lips.

A warm blush was beginning starting to blossom across her chest and colour her cheeks, the close proximity reassuring her of long forgotten arguments, endless lost time but most of all...reassuring promises.

"Yeah," She turned around slowly, hand resting against the 5 0'Clock shadow of his cheek, his worn eyes tracing the tired black and blue lines underneath her own. "I think I am."

Then, as though it was 1999, she risked it all again.


End file.
